


Eighth Wonder

by lxpinwrites



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I know very little of Gerard Keay and I have not listened beyond Episode 101 yet, M/M, MAG 101 spoilers, Mentioned Gertrude Robinson, Michael uses he/him or they/them, Other, Pre-Canon, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxpinwrites/pseuds/lxpinwrites
Summary: She said they had died - that they had not survived the expedition on account of "unknown" reasons. Gerard didn't believe her. He didn't want to believe her, even. But what choice did he have?All he knew, was that the ghost in the yellow door was not his Michael.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57





	Eighth Wonder

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I've not written fan fiction (besides vague attempts) in YEARS but I started listening to TMA and now I can't stop thinking of Michael Distortion.
> 
> I'm only at Episode 101 right now, so I'm really just writing what I've seen of Gerard and what fan stuff I know!!
> 
> All of this was written by me, a trans author!

She said they had died - that they had not survived the expedition on account of "unknown" reasons. Gerard didn't believe her. He didn't _want_ to believe her, even. But what choice did he have?

All he knew, was that the ghost in the yellow door was _not_ his Michael.

The last day he had seen his partner had begun so mundanely that Gerard struggled to remember the date, and that’s perhaps what bothered him the most. He knew that Michael’s death had been on a weekday, because he had seen Michael - with his luggage - in the lobby, waiting for Gertrude to take him to the airport. Gerard thought it was bloody idiotic for them to fly to a dock and _then_ board a ship, but when he had expressed his concern for funding, Gertrude had merely flashed him a coldly neutral look.

He couldn’t remember Michael’s last words, but he remembered what Gertrude had said to him when he had read the exorbitant amount that Elias had somehow approved. “This trip is not for you, Mr. Keay.”

But of course the trip wasn’t for him, Gerard reasoned with an agitated, grief-stricken breath. Despite how close he and Gertrude had once been, he hadn’t even known of her plans to travel until Michael had practically bounced into the Archives, his frizzy curls only barely contained in its ponytail. His freckled cheeks were practically bursting red with excitement, and he couldn’t sit still long enough to even speak to Gerard - hell, he never could sit still, anyways. It was hard enough to work with Michael fidgeting about, and it got even harder when they started courting. Gerard would be finishing up research on a statement and Michael would be, in the span of five minutes, twirling his pen, sneaking kisses on Gerard’s cheek, re-reading statements - practically anything but sitting still.

It had once been so annoying - until all that remained was the still, silent rooms of the Archives. He wished he could remember something besides the way he felt the blood in his veins boil when Michael asked him why he had decided not to go. “What expedition?” He had asked. Something in his expression had made Michael swallow nervously, and he forced himself to not jump to conclusions, to not allow the tension in the Institute to make him snap at the one person he cared about.

“Gertrude asked me to accompany her in her next expedition, and when I asked her about you, she said you had refused.” Michael cocked his head confusedly. Gerard couldn’t help but to stare at the way the fluorescent light bounced off of his hair, an eternal halo. “I thought it was really weird - especially since you typically go with her when it involved the - um - the really dangerous things.”

“She never asked me,” Gerard said. “Is it something I cannot help with? Something that bloody _fire_ can’t fix? Is-“

“She calls it The Spiral.”

Gerard had stopped. He didn’t understand the Spiral - he doubted anyone did, in truth. He had read the statements and had listened to Gertrude and Elias’s conversation - in secret - and all it ever did was give him a splitting headache.

Still, something in Michael’s kind, soft eyes, knowing that they would be going alone, didn’t sit right with him.

He didn’t realize he had never responded until Michael had lightly touched his hand with soft fingers, jolting him to the present. “Do you - Do you not want me to go? It’s alright, you know. I can - We can go to her office, if you’d like. I’m sure she-“

“No,” Gerard said quickly, if but to drown out the growing disappointment in Michael’s eyes. They had only been dating for a few months. Gerard couldn’t possibly force him to turn something like that down - and he didn’t think he would want to. “I think it’s… dangerous, obviously. But I can’t stop you. I’ll - I’ll even support you.”

The Archive seemed to sigh in relief as Michael brightened, jumping into his arms in an embrace that was so comforting, he found that he didn’t want to let go.

Michael did let go, though. And then he never held them again. Days passed, and then he had helped Michael stuff his bags into the taxi, though Gertrude had tried to tell him that luggage wouldn’t be necessary. Gerard hadn’t even questioned the look Gertrude shot Elias. Michael kissed him once, and then he was gone.

Gerard knew that Gertrude had succeeded in stopping the Spiral long before he got the call. He had felt it in the air, that sudden shift of energy that made him feel like he was falling. Elias felt it, too - he saw the way the man stumbled in the hall, giving the air a quizzical look.

Gerard didn’t remember what he was doing when Elias stopped in the doorway, telling him to come to his office in five minutes for a call. He only remembered the flash of pity in Elias’s eyes - a brief, rare thing that he likely imagined.

The Institute was quiet without Michael’s laugh or Gertrude’s recordings, and Gerard knew it would stay that way for a long time. He knew it the moment he walked into Elias’s office to find him sitting by his desk, the phone off the hook in a long dial tone. “Have a seat, Gerard. I suspect you would need it.”

Two cups of tea were on the desk, though one was cold when Gerard sat down in front of it, clasping it with dark painted nails and shaking hands. A pit in his stomach was growing along with the temperature in the room, and Elias loosened his collar a little uncomfortably as he stared.

“I… hope you can forgive me if I’m rather short on the subject,” Elias said, his eyes piercing as always, though he seemed to squirm a little under Gerard’s gaze. Perhaps it was just the heavy eyeliner, though. “I find I’m never good at being necessarily comforting. I prefer to get the thing over with as soon as possible. Dawdling just prevents one from-“

“And what are you doing right now?”

Gerard wasn’t sure why he had been so snappy, but it seemed to get Elias’s attention. “Right. Gertrude called me after docking with some concerning news regarding your - erm - regarding Michael. Are you sure you’re… _able_ to handle this?”

“Get it over with,” Gerard said. “‘Less you’re scared.”

Elias swallowed. “I’m afraid something occurred while in Sannikov Land. Gertrude did not say specifically what happened, but it seems that Michael did not make it out. He’s gone.”

The ticking of the clock in Elias’s office seemed to slow and the world spun in his mind, though a million unintelligible thoughts ran through his mind. Birds sang from outside the window, but the sound was terribly, utterly alien. Birdsongs were supposed to be for Michael, reminiscent of their first date in the park.

“Gerard.”

The tea in the cup steamed and bubbled as his breathing hitched. He had not cried in years, having sealed off his emotions long, long ago. But steaming hot tears were still falling down his cheeks, singing the skin with watery black.

“Gerard.”

Elias’s voice was cold, distant. Gerard knew the Eye was responsible, that the Eye knew what had happened to his - to _Michael_. And the damned bastard wasn’t going to speak.

Gerard’s knuckles were white as the tea verged on evaporation. “What happened?”

Elias sighed in perhaps relief at finally breaking through to him, though it was short-lived. “Like I said, Gertrude did not tell me any of the-“

Glass shattered against the wall as piping hot tea only narrowly missed Elias, though he never flinched, simply sparing the mess a single, tired glance. Gerard was on his feet in an instant, slamming his palms against the hard wooden desk. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Elias! You’re an avatar of the goddamned _Eye_ and you claim that you don’t know? Bullshit, Elias!”

“Come now,” Elias said. “I don’t know everything, Gerard, and Gertrude knows how to evade even my Sight. Whatever happened to your boyfriend is beyond me.”

“Do you not even care?” Gerard asked, practically pleading with Elias for something he could not understand. “Do you - Did you even spare Michael a glance before signing him on, before approving that godforsaken trip? You _knew_ they would die, and you approved it anyways.”

The sidelong glance Elias shot the window was enough for him to know that he was right. “I’ll admit I had a certain apathy when hiring the Archivist’s assistants. I will _not_ admit, however, a knowledge for something I had no part in. No, whatever Gertrude did to Michael was far beyond me.”

“Will-“

“And do not ask me to help you intimidate Gertrude,” Elias interrupted. He reached for the landline calmly, dialing the number for the secretary - likely to clean up the mess Gerard had made. “I have no interest in further straining our Archivist for a loss she is likely also mourning.”

Gerard made a frustrated sound, turning from the desk and slamming the door open.

“Oh, and Gerard.” He stopped just before he could crack the wood of the door, and he did not turn to address him.

“What.”

“I am sorry, by the way. For your loss.”

Gerard turned just to look at Elias, at the carefree, lazy glance in his eye. He vowed then that he would burn that look off of his face - but not on that day. “I’m sure you will be.”

—

The yellow door shadowing Michael’s abandoned desk had not been there the day before, Gerard thought as he looked up from his work, only to shake his head with a sigh. Of course, his mind had been rather… changed, ever since Michael’s death. He couldn’t believe he had just forgotten the door that certainly connected to Gertrude’s office.

That’s what Gerard told himself - until the ghost with the too-long fingers peeked through the door, staring at Gertrude with wide, dizzying eyes.

“What-“ Gerard shot to his feet in an instant when it emerged from the door, hunching to fit in the doorway, impossibly tall for only a moment - and then it was merely six feet tall. Still tall, of course, but nowhere the size Gerard swore it had been. Flames appeared at his fingertips in an instant, though his mind was racing with thoughts nowhere near fighting - not when the ghost had blonde hair that fell in huge, messy curls. It almost looked like -

“Do you not remember me?” It asked, its voice a cruel, distorted mockery of - no - it couldn’t be -

“You’re not him,” Gerard said in a breathless moment, leaning back against his desk, feeling the corners of his vision darken from the shock of it all. “You’re a - a _thing_ wearing him!”

It laughed, sound multiplying until a thousand shrill voices were laughing in his mind, sounding just like Michael and not at all like him. Gerard winced, the sound he had so long craved to hear sending shards of pain in his head. “‘Wearing him’? No. I don’t think that’s right at all, Archival Assistant.”

Gerard stared at the ground where the thing with Michael’s face stood, refusing to look in those ever-shifting eyes for a moment longer. He tried to collect his thoughts, though they were a scrambled mess. He thought he had put the grief behind him, had finally locked it away as he had done so many times before, but now it was as strong as ever. “What are you?” He asked, trying - and failing - to compel the thing.

“That is a better question than others,” it said, the words slow, as if it were trying out Michael’s voice for the first time. Perhaps it was, Gerard thought. “I don’t think I could tell you, even if we had the time. I’m not who you want me to be, though. Not entirely. Or maybe not anymore. Or was I ever him?”

The mention of Michael had him moving faster than his brain could keep track with, and though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was intending to do, a sharp finger pressed against his hard leather jacket stopped him in his tracks. The monster smiled with long, sharp teeth, looking him over curiously. “Do you intend to hurt me, Gerard? The name is so foreign. Does knowing his memories are mine ease the transition?”

“I’m-“ Gerard hesitated. “I don’t know. You’re - What happened to Michael? What do I call you?”

Something like pain flashed in it’s eyes for just a moment, and then its form was shifting in the light, the edges almost blurry, distorting until-

The air left Gerard’s lungs as he looked at a shorter, softer Michael, his hair no longer waist length but loose around his shoulders. Gerard had only seen his hair down once - it felt almost… _voyeuristic_ to see it again. The clothes were the same outfit that Michael had worn on the day of their departure.

It was like staring at a ghost. Gerard wanted to believe that, if but for a moment, that the ghost was not a monster, but was instead simply his love coming to visit him.

That illusion, however, was broken when the monster spoke, its voice still a strangely-distorted version of Michael’s. “People call me what they choose. It matters not to me. Names mean very little when you’re unaccustomed to becoming. You could call me Michael-“

“-No,” Gerard interjected, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t use his name. It’s not - It’s not yours. I just… I just want to know what you did to him.”

It did not laugh like Gerard had anticipated. Instead, it only looked troubled. “Could I tell you here, I believe I would. However, I find that eyes watch when we least desire them to. You wouldn’t be safe, you know, if you knew the truth. A part of us doesn’t want to risk that.”

Gerard gave a short laugh that bordered on hysterical. “I think I can handle myself, thanks. Do you mean to not tell me anything? You just came to - to mock me with a distortion of who he was?”

It smiled, and though the teeth were flat, the mouth was far, far too wide. “A distortion _is_ what I am. I mean to tell you what I can - it will be your choice to understand. Your Michael did not know that the Eye can lie, nor did he know where the Spiral lies.”

“Lie - what-“ Gerard paused, and his eyes instinctually flicked towards the tape recorder he had just been listening to. Michael’s eyes seemed to light up. “Gertrude planned this.”

“Planned it.” Michael’s form stretched, the colors emitting from his rapidly-changing clothing making Gerard strain to see him. “And caused it. She didn’t ask if _I_ wanted to be him, nor if he wanted to be me. She simply acted. He didn’t forget you, you know. And I see why.”

Gerard’s brow furrowed. “Are you - flirting with me? After admitting to being a weird mixture of monster and my partner?”

Michael laughed - when did Gerard start thinking of him as Michael? - though the sound was not cruel. “His desires come out occasionally, though I suppose it’s wrong to say we’re separate. Michael Shelley is gone, but you can see him through me. Is that enough for you?”

Gerard turned from the long hand extended towards him, trying not to look at the strangely contorting bones and too many joints. “It’s… too much. For now. But I will call you Michael.”

Michael smiled before retreating back towards the door. “Then I suppose that will have to be enough.”


End file.
